


Method in madness

by rip1009



Series: Requiem for a fool. His Dark Chronicles. [2]
Category: Vampire Chronicles - All Media Types, Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: I'm shit with tags, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, M/M, Nicolas just wants to heal, Violence, bat-shit crazy but with a purpose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 14:55:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13572945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rip1009/pseuds/rip1009
Summary: After the teaser of "Requiem for a fool", here is Nicolas beginning his long journey of healing, after a fashion, by writing his memoirs





	Method in madness

I have to admit it, this century comes with many advantages. And a resurrected devil who rediscovered the joys of spewing tales to an eternal audience.

I had a bunch of crazy ideas in my dark years but Lestat, mon ami, I haven't thought of actually becoming an author and delighting the audience with our vivid history. And here you are, once again, back it with a fresh new book under the guise of that pseudonym you beautiful one took.

Honestly, darling, your prose is full of exaggerations! You lived and died for drama. It flows in your veins like the dark blood which animates our bodies. You've chosen to keep some truths from your audience. I understand it, I really do. During those dark days, blood wasn't the only fluid we shared. 

One would ask why I keep myself outside your merry coven.

I just don't feel like entering the healing phase with you, darling. The plain sight of you hurts and brings anger in equal measure. Oh Santino, how you'd consider this a weakness born from festering love and adoration.

I loved you, Lestat. I loved you madly, deeply. I loved your optimism. I loved your sarcasm. I loved how you could see the sun from the bleak winter we found ourselves in.

Back in Auvergne, we were the outcasts. We healed though absurd plans, wretched hopes and consoling our broken souls. Beaten, broken, bloodied. I remember entering my room, my back bearing the abuse my father inflicted on me. You were already there. Just as wretched as I was. Old tears marring your fair skin, fresh ones brimming your eyes. 

The Marquis had been into one of those moods. I always thought it was simply a matter of time until the old bastard would call on his favorite sons to join in that particular brand of abuse and shame. I always wondered what would I have done in your place. You always fought I was the strong one. I guess I had a talent to convince everyone I was strong when I fact, I was scarred shitless. I guess we feed from each other's strengths. During those days, I resolved to think of any subject simply to bring you back to my home. To take you away from the desolation of that castle. I didn't muster hopes of delivering absolution but it pained me to see that look of defeat in your eyes.

In the years after the Théâtre, I embarked into some sort of a personal healing process. Come to think about it, it was everything but the conventional healing process delivered by alienists, although, for fun, I consulted a few. Minus the whole vampire confession. It would have done no good to any party.

You see, Lestat, leaving me with Armand and his minions was a test for me. I endured their insane babble in the same manner I had endured the torture, physical and psychological.

Armand prided himself of having been taught by the finest dark master but he was an idiot. A simple child who suffered like I was suffering and thought to inflict the pain he felt on me. Oh, it was fun!

After all these years, my hands still hurt. The idiot gave me back my hands but the time between having them severed, the blood loss and the delay he took to fuse them back together left some damage.

He knew, he knew what meant to take away the only way I was capable to feel sane. He had smirked when he cut through joints and bone. 

I remember Santiago's hands on my wrists, massaging them. He stood and encouraged me to play even though in my ears my music sounded like shit. He never gave up and I let him go to that demon, enter through those gates and the bastard took him away from me. My infatuated child. He loved the very monster who separated us, Lestat. And the tragic irony? Like a silly soap opera of these days, the auburn degenerate loved your childe.

You dared to forsake me?

You dared to fantasize about me in the creation you've birthed through the Dark Blood?

Imagine how these thoughts sounded from a vampire who was going to an alienist!

I can't say I follow the rules of our kind but I enjoy my anonymity.

So, I began writing. My tale. I don't know what I will do it with it, Lestat? Publish it. Leave it in a cafe to be found by an aspiring artists. 

I guess there is method in madness.

I guess we might meet again soon, my dark Prince.

**Author's Note:**

> //   
> companion piece to "Requiem for a fool" http://archiveofourown.org/works/13125309  
> comments and feedback are cherished   
> you can also check my RP account: https://monsieur-nicolas-de-lenfent.tumblr.com/


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